"Basically, it's the long-lived human slave of an Aedh," I answered, almost absently. To Azriel, I added, "Are they wearing the tattoo?"
In reply, he leaned down and tore the shirt away from the back of one of his captives. Two tattoos were revealed—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and, on the right shoulder, a ring of barbed wire.
Confusion swirled through me, and I frowned. "That barbed-wire tat is the same one the rat-shifter saw on the fellow who'd paid him to deliver the note and the book from my father."
"First," Jak said, exasperation in his voice, "you really need to introduce me to the seminaked, sword-bearing reaper. And second, I thought you didn't know your father."
"I didn't know my father until recently," I said. "And Jak, meet Azriel."
The two men nodded at each other. Azriel said, "The fact that these men are Razan suggests your father could be in league with our fake Nadler—if these men were sent here by Nadler, that is."
"There's no one else who would gain any benefit from the death of Logan, the photographer, and now his secretary, so it has to be Nadler." I paused, chewing absently on my lip. "And it makes no sense for my father to be involved with someone like him. Even if he can no longer attain human form, he's probably more powerful than any human could ever hope to be."
Azriel nodded in agreement. "Even a human involved in dark magic who has control of a ley-line intersection would not be as powerful as your father."
It should have been one hell of a scary thought, but maybe I was simply too damn tired and sore to feel any more scared than I already was. I rubbed my aching head wearily, and said, "None of this is making any sense, is it?"
"Especially not to me," Jak muttered.
I gave him a half smile, but it faded quickly at the sound of approaching steps. I almost reached for Amaya, then relaxed as a voice said, "Risa, it's Harris West from the Directorate of Other Races."
"We're in the kitchen," I answered, a little surprised that Rhoan hadn't come. But then, he was head guardian these days, and I guess I couldn't always expect him to show up when I called.
But he'd still sent one of the daytime pision's best. While most vamps weren't able to traverse the daylight hours, other nasties could, which meant these days the Directorate had a full complement of specialized non-humans in its ranks. From what Aunt Riley had told me, I knew that Harris wasn't only a powerful werewolf; he was also an extremely strong telekinetic.
He appeared several seconds later, a tall, dark-haired man with handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe as a wolf. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze pausing on Azriel and briefly narrowing—which made me wonder just whom he saw—before finally coming to rest on me. "Up to your neck in it again, I see."
"Afraid so. I gather Rhoan updated you on what has been going on?"